Under her husband’s stern gaze, Madam Pan shrank back and shook her head slightly. She had borne six children, but only three survived. In those years of hardship, she had no leisure to record the birth dates of the little ones who died young.
He Fangting had expected this. She covered her lips with a smile: “The elder brother had no name, no recorded birth date, not even a place in the family register. Yet Father still wishes to marry him a wife and continue his line. Such fatherly devotion—truly unique in our Great Zhao dynasty.”
Her sarcasm made Jiang Chengzong’s face flush crimson, his resentment toward her deepening. This daughter‑in‑law, proud of her noble birth, had always looked down on the Jiang family. Outwardly dutiful, inwardly dismissive.
He snapped: “No matter what you think, the Xie woman will enter this house! She is not Zhixiu’s concubine, but the legitimate wife he takes on behalf of his brother. Your consent is not required! I and his mother can decide!”
He Fangting’s smile did not fade. “Is that so? Then let her enter. Why summon me at all?”
Jiang Chengzong faltered. Though his words were harsh, he knew well: without He Fangting’s agreement, Xie Meiying could not marry in. He and Jiang Zhixiu had discussed it—though the emperor disliked He Fangting, his niece, he cared about appearances. If she made a public scene, the emperor would be forced to intervene.
Jiang Furong quickly stepped forward: “Elder Sister‑in‑law, Father didn’t mean it that way.”
He Fangting turned to her. “Then tell me—what did Father mean?”
Jiang Furong hesitated, then smiled: “As a married daughter, I shouldn’t speak of family matters. But, Sister‑in‑law, Xie Meiying’s entry will not harm you. Eldest Brother already said she does not concern herself with household affairs. You will remain the mistress of the Jiang family, the one who rules without question.”
To her, “sister‑in‑law” could be anyone; her true loyalty lay with her brother. Whoever he wanted—Xie or Li—she would support.
He Fangting stared at her silently.
The Jiang family valued sons above all. Madam Pan spent her days attending to her husband and sons, neglecting her daughter. When He Fangting first married in, Jiang Furong had been a pale, timid girl, hiding like a mouse in corners.
He Fangting had invested great effort and wealth to raise her into a graceful lady, even securing her a fine marriage. Now she had children and a happy life. And this was how she repaid her. Was the Jiang family’s nature always so cold?
She had already guessed Jiang Furong would side with Jiang Zhixiu, but seeing it still pained her.
Jiang Furong squirmed under her gaze, forcing a smile: “Sister‑in‑law, why look at me so?”
He Fangting said coolly: “Since you know you should not speak, then be silent.”
Jiang Furong, accustomed to He Fangting’s gentle words, was stunned by her bluntness. Her face stiffened, and she retorted sharply: “A woman should plan for her husband’s family, placing its interests first. That is what you taught me before I married. Why do you now contradict yourself? Xie Meiying is recognized even before the throne. The Huainan people call her ‘Immortal Mei.’ Her reputation is excellent. If she marries into the Jiang family, it will bring us honor. Yu’er and Ying’er will benefit as well!”
He Fangting could only laugh bitterly. She had taught Jiang Furong to “plan for her husband’s family and put its interests first” so that Jiang Furong could quickly integrate into her new household and secure her footing. In great clans, mothers who truly cared for their daughters often gave such advice.
But Madam Pan, shallow in vision, only taught obedience and blind devotion to husbands. He Fangting had found that intolerable, so she had personally instructed Jiang Furong.
Who would have thought that today Jiang Furong would turn her own words against her—using her spear as her shield. Truly absurd.
She lifted her teacup, took a sip, and smiled: “By your reasoning, the Jiang family’s honor depends on marrying Xie Meiying? Furong, your brother studied ten years in bitter cold, endured eighteen years of officialdom—yet in your eyes, all of that counts for nothing.”
Yu’er and Ying’er would benefit? She could even say such a thing!
If their father could so casually decide to take two wives by lineage, what respectable family would dare marry Jiayu? And when he entered officialdom, he would bear the weight of gossip. Jiaying, too, would be pointed at and whispered about.
Jiang Furong gaped, speechless. “I—I didn’t mean it that way!”
Jiang Chengzong barked: “Shameful girl! If you cannot speak properly, then hold your tongue!”
This daughter was a fool. Marrying Xie Meiying had its advantages, but some things should remain unspoken. To declare them openly made them sound mercenary, cheapening the matter.
Jiang Furong had not been scolded by her father in years. Childhood memories surged back; stunned, she sat aside, covering her face and weeping.
Madam Pan, flustered, hurried over to whisper: “Stop those tears at once! A married daughter crying in her natal home brings bad fortune. Your father will be angry!”
Jiang Furong felt even more wronged—scolded by her father, and her mother cared only for him. But she dared not cry further.
In the past, He Fangting would have stepped in to shield her. Now, she only thought Jiang Chengzong’s rebuke was not harsh enough.
“Father, Mother—if there is nothing else, I will take my leave.”
Jiang Chengzong’s voice was stiff: “There is only one matter: marrying Xie Meiying!”
He Fangting’s reply was crisp: “Not to be discussed.”
Jiang Furong feared him; He Fangting did not. She had never feared.
Jiang Chengzong muttered, “…As mistress of the household, you should have the magnanimity to accept others.”
He Fangting smiled: “Of course. I permit her as a concubine.”